


In the Quiet Moments

by emmaliza



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: 90s fic, Crying, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional!Howard, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 05:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16549403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: “Jay. Jay, I'm crying.”Jason's not entirely sure when or why it became his duty to look after Howard when he gets like this, but he does it eagerly – that's more than can be said for some of the things he has to do.





	In the Quiet Moments

**Author's Note:**

> So. This may have been partially inspired by an old prompt asking for Jason/Howard with Howard as a submissive, but I don't think it fits that very well. More inspired by some old articles/interviews I've seen about the band's first ever tour, Howard crying right before they had to go on stage, and possibly turning to Jay for comfort - but like, the article I read that last bit in I think is buried in my tumblr likes somewhere, so y'know, citation needed.

“Jay. Jay, I'm crying.”

Jason stops, turns his head, and looks at Howard. He is. His tall, handsome frame is shaking from head to toe, the tears running down his cheeks helplessly. From the look in his eye, Jason gets the impression he doesn't really know either.

They're waiting to start their first tour, and Jason knows they don't have long – fifteen minutes, at most. Beside them, Mark, Robbie and Gary all stand in a like – Mark looking over with concern, Robbie in confusion, Gary with something between concern and annoyance. Jason knows he shouldn't break out of position, he can only imagine the tongue-lashing he'll get from Nigel later, but Howard _needs_ him, and that really makes the decision for him.

Hurriedly, he grabs Howard by the hand, ignoring any funny looks he gets from the others. “Come with me.” Howard nods obligingly, and Mark steps out of his way with a smile; Jason refuses to think about the rest of it any more.

There's nowhere in particular he can lead Howard – but to their dressing room would be more private, but that's too far down the corridor, they don't have time – but eventually, he finds a little crook among all the cables where he can hide them behind a flimsy red curtain. It's not particularly subtle, but he hopes the crew are all too busy doing their very important jobs to notice.

When Jason has time to look back, Howard is still in tears, but he's starting to look embarrassed now, hiding his face behind his hands. “Sorry,” he mumbles, wiping at his cheeks. “I-I don't know why I'm like this. I mean, you're the one who–”

“Shh,” Jason cuts him off, putting gentle hands on both his shoulders. Howard's right, he's been struggling with pain all day, his head is still spinning from whatever they shot into him so he could go on stage – but it doesn't matter. If Howard needs him, he's here. “You don't have to have a reason. It's okay.”

Jason presumes it's just basic nerves, because this is their first ever proper concert and they're _all_ nervous, even Gary. And Howard's always been the shyest of them. Jason leans in close and kisses him, on either cheek, tasting the salt in his mouth. He's not entirely sure when or why it became his duty to look after Howard when he gets like this, but he does it eagerly – that's more than can be said for some of the things he has to do.

Howard shudders slightly, and leans in toward him, burrowing his face in Jason's neck. Jason can feel the sobs still wrack his body, and he wraps his arms around him, stroking his back soothingly. “You're going to be just fine out there, Dougie,” he promises. “You're going to be _brilliant_.”

“So are you,” Howard sniffles against his shoulder, and Jason smiles to himself. It's not often he hears that. But if Howard says so. “We're all going to be brilliant, I know it, but – I don't know.” He looks up, and his bloodshot eyes meet Jason's once more. “I guess I'm just – overwhelmed?”

“I understand,” Jason says, and moves to kiss him again – properly now, on the lips. Howard groans and quickly opens his mouth, letting Jason explore as he will – but mostly, Jason just wants to pull him closer, hold him tight. With one hand he grasps Howard's tank top and with the other, he threads his fingers through Howard's hair. Howard has one strong arm wrapped around his shoulders and for a second, Jason lets himself forget that they don't have time, that they're going to be on stage in a minute, that they're both taking risks they really can't afford to.

It's hard to think about such things when Howard groans between his lips, pushing his whole body forward in one smooth movement. Jason feels a tell-tale hardness collide with his hip, and smiles again. He's always been a bit of a contradiction in terms, their Howard – he can be so sensitive sometimes, but also, he's always absolutely fucking _filthy_.

When Jason breaks the kiss, Howard's tears have finally stopped. He cups Howard's jaw. “Do you want me to take care of you, How?” he whispers, while behind the curtain, the rest of the world hustles and bustles, completely ignoring what the two dancers at the back might get up to while nobody's looking.

Howard grins, maybe a little bashful, and nods. When Jason reaches for his fly and unzips him, it seems like the most natural thing in the world. Looking after Howard is what he does these days. _Somebody_ ought to.

Jason's long since started to suspect that a lot of what they do is fake, a product packaged and presented to an eager audience. But what he has with Howard, that is real.

Howard groans as Jason's hand reaches inside his underwear, tight enough it's almost painful. “Jay,” he whispers, and then buries his face against Jason's shoulder again, aware they have to be quiet. Jason kisses his hair as he starts to stroke, his own cock twitching at the heat against his hand, the slit already just the tiniest bit wet.

If they had more time, were somewhere less public, Jason would probably go slower, wouldn't want to risk messing with Howard's fraught emotions any more than the night so far has – but he knows he can't have more than ten minutes left, they have to be quick. Howard gives him a smothered moan as Jason wanks him off, and Jason unconsciously shifts his hips forward so he can grind against Howard's thigh. That almost seems selfish, somehow, but Howard doesn't complain.

Howard moans into his neck, the skin already wet under the backstage lights, and licks up with his tongue. “Fuck,” he gasps, and kisses the spot he just licked. Jason groans, his cock leaping in his trousers, but he has to apologetically push Howard away. As much as he would like to, he knows he can't afford to have a mark there.

There's no offense at it on Howard's part, instead, he simply buries his face in Jason's shoulder again, and starts bucking into his hand. “Jay,” he moans, less than coherent. “Oh fuck, Jay.”

A few minutes pass, mostly silent, but for stroking and the odd groan, lost among how loud the crowds outside are. Jason knew this wouldn't take long; Howard's older than the rest of them, but not that old, and performances like these always leave one's body on the edge. Jason makes sure to pull Howard against him tighter, his fingers curling as he softly thumbs the head, and he can feel another shudder run through Howard's body.

“It's alright,” Jason whispers, stroking his hair again, nuzzling his jaw. “I've got you. You'll be just fine out there. Promise.”

Howard gasps quietly, and Jason feels his prick twitch, hard, before the white sticky come spills into his palm. Jason shivers, and before he knows it his own orgasm creeps up on him, and he spends with a muffled noise against Howard's cheek. Things seem to go white for a bit, but that might just be them switching yet more lights on backstage.

When he's recovered, he stands upright and kisses Howard again, painfully soft. “So, you feel ready now?” he asks, his hand cupping Howard's jaw once more – he tries to sound casual, and fails spectacularly.

Howard still looks nervous, but he isn't crying. “Ready as ever, s'pose,” he says, and Jason frowns with concern. He sighs. “I'll be fine. Just having a bit of a tanty.” He pauses, then chuckles. “Really, you've not put me off bursting into tears at any bloody thing here. Probably gonna do it again next time.”

Jason laughs. Really he should know better than to reinforce that behaviour, but he doesn't. “Cross that bridge when we come to it.” Howard snorts, seeing a double entendre in Jason's words that he didn't really mean to be there. Outside, people are shouting that they're almost on and where the hell is half the band, and Jason sighs, slowly extracting his hand from Howard's trousers. It's a bit of a trick to get it out without getting the come everywhere, but he manages, wiping it clean on the curtain, hoping that by the time anyone notices, there'll have been so many people through here that nobody could guess who it was.

Slightly more worrying is the wet patch at the front of Jason's own trousers, but he's already starting to sweat under the lights, so hopefully by the time he's on stage he'll be too wet all over for anyone to notice.

Just as they're ready to turn and go, Howard reaches out and squeezes his hand. He gives Jason an anxious smile. _Thank you,_ he says silently, and Jason leans over and kisses his brow.

When they emerge from behind the curtain, they rush back to position, and everyone's too relieved to see them to ask any questions about their dishelved state. Gary, Mark and Rob all turn and look, sigh, are glad Howard's crisis has been solved – however they think Jason did it – relax for a millisecond, and then return to worrying about their own parts.

Just before the curtain goes up, Jason sees Howard bite his lip, and his heart races a little faster. But when the crowd finally get to see them, Howard greets them with as wide a grin as anybody's.

 


End file.
